


Adrenaline, and other forms of liquid courage

by Trifoliate_undergrowth



Category: Half-Life
Genre: (it works out for them), 2 impress ur bro (that u think should kiss u), Alcohol, Angry Kissing, Bad Decisions, Drunken Kissing, M/M, Sign Language, absolute gremlin vibes from this man, general stupid reckless gay behavior, giggly drunk gordon, he just wants B to kiss him.., nonverbal Gordon, sorta - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-06
Updated: 2021-02-06
Packaged: 2021-03-18 03:15:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,744
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29236677
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Trifoliate_undergrowth/pseuds/Trifoliate_undergrowth
Summary: He was halfway through the vents, dodging the blades from a fan, when it occurred to him that maybe they shouldn’t be doing this drunk. He just had to hope that if Gordon had any doubts about his ability to complete the course he’d stop before they got to the really dangerous parts. No, who was he kidding—Gordon, drunk Gordon, have sense? He picked up the pace. If he could beat him to the elevator shaft he could call the race there, before it got too dangerous. Hopefully Gordon wouldn’t try to argue, there wasn’t really any way for him to make up the distance after that point anyway.
Relationships: Barney Calhoun/Gordon Freeman
Comments: 5
Kudos: 64





	Adrenaline, and other forms of liquid courage

He was halfway through the vents, dodging the blades from a fan, when it occurred to him that maybe they shouldn’t be doing this drunk. He just had to hope that if Gordon had any doubts about his ability to complete the course he’d stop before they got to the really dangerous parts. No, who was he kidding—Gordon, _drunk_ Gordon, have _sense_? He picked up the pace. If he could beat him to the elevator shaft he could call the race there, before it got too dangerous. Hopefully Gordon wouldn’t try to argue, there wasn’t really any way for him to make up the distance after that point anyway.

Why’d he agree to this? Why now? They could race anytime, preferably when they’d slept and were sober and less likely to slip up and get hurt, or worse. But they’d both been energized and happy and reluctant to let the night end, and Barney had made a joke about passing out in the vents, and Gordon had straightened up and bet him he could run their obstacle course faster—they liked to set up alternative routes that would allow them to cross the complex during a power outage or lockdown, using only back passageways and vents, and timed themselves on running different sections of it. Their main rivalry was over a course with two possible routes, so they could both run it at the same time; their routes converging in several places before the finish line, giving them multiple chances to check how they were doing relative to the other, maybe do some smack talk if they had the breath for it. Barney took him up on it immediately without thinking, and they set off running in opposite directions. It wasn’t like Gordon was having trouble walking, though Barney did consider him a lightweight compared to himself. But honestly, now that he thought about it, he was probably more drunk than he thought if he’d thought that this was a good idea. He probably shouldn’t be doing this. Which meant Gordon _definitely_ shouldn’t be doing this.

Fine. He was still in a bit of a pleasant daze, the worry growing in the back of his mind more or less stayed back there, but he did push himself to go faster. He could do this. Easy. Gordon could be fast but he didn’t pace himself well, Barney could get there before him; especially since he knew something Gordon didn’t know, that the race was ending at the elevator shaft and not later. He didn’t have to hold anything back.

He dropped out of the vents, climbed through an access tunnel, clambered over some crates, and briefly returned to the main hallways, panicking for a moment when he slid into the passage in front of the elevator and the doors were shut. But that was good, Gordon wouldn’t shut them after him, it was bad sportsmanship. So that meant he was first. He still broke into a sprint, determined to reach the doors as soon as possible.

Later, he’d wonder why he opened the doors at all, if he was planning to call the race there. Better not to have the rest of the route tantalizingly open behind him if he really wanted to convince Gordon to stop. Maybe just habit, maybe he really wasn’t thinking straight. A moment later he heard rapid footsteps approaching down the hall and, the thrill of competition momentarily overriding anything else, looked over his shoulder with a big grin, instinctively moving to block the doorway with his body. Gordon, panting and flushed, stopped to stare at him with a grin of his own.

“I win,” said Barney, remembering that he was trying to _stop_ the race.

Gordon laughed dismissively.

“Seriously, you’re not gonna pass me,” said Barney, moving into the elevator shaft and starting to inch around the narrow ledge towards the ladder on the far wall—another decision he’d later question. Maybe his logic was that Gordon would give up if he reached the ladder, since he couldn’t possibly pass him on that. “So just—hey, Gordon?”

He heard running feet again, getting closer. He paused, pressed into the corner, suddenly having a very bad feeling about this.

Gordon appeared a moment later moving at a dead sprint and launched himself straight across the elevator shaft without hesitation. His body smacked into the ladder and he bounced backwards, feet slipping off the ledge. For a split second he was falling into the darkness under them, then his arms wrapped around the ladder and he caught himself with a jerk. Barney screamed “NO!”, pushing himself off the wall towards him.

Gordon—Gordon looked at him and _laughed_. He pulled himself back up with an effort and started climbing the ladder.

Barney could feel his blood burning with frantic energy. He jumped onto the ladder below Gordon and raced up it—probably setting a new personal record, though he wasn’t thinking about that now—and, in another move that would make absolutely no sense when he thought about it later, grabbed Gordon’s leg and yanked. Probably trying to stop him, though it was pretty clear at this point that logic wasn’t really working for him anymore.

He liked to joke that Gordon was boneless, or secretly a snake; he could turn around in vents without backing up and Barney still didn’t know how he did it—all that to say that he was remarkably slippery, and when he expected Gordon to do something reasonable like stop and stay where he was, he instead managed to somehow both turn around and wrench out of his grip, but then almost immediately slipped off the ladder. Fortunately he fell straight down and Barney caught him and pinned him between his body and the ladder.

Well that was terrifying. But it worked out. He’d stopped him, anyway.

Gordon didn’t seem bothered by his two recent near death experiences, and was giggling breathlessly.

“You could have died,” said Barney, voice shaking somewhere between a whisper and a shout.

Gordon was unperturbed—even letting go of Barney’s shirt, which he’d reflexively latched onto on his way down, to sign, “Trying to distract me, Mr. Calhoun?”

“Gordon!”

“Can’t let me win? Have to resort to this? It’s working.” His hands brushed Barney’s chest as he signed, it was hard to follow the motion this close.

Barney started laughing then. He wasn’t sure why, his body was shaking and he was still panting from the race and he couldn’t catch his breath. Much as he hated to admit it, Gordon was onto something about distractions; the warmth of the body pressed against his almost eclipsed his consciousness of the giant death pit right below them. Almost.

“I got you,” Gordon signed, grinning.

“Seriously, we need to cut it off here, someone’s gonna get hurt,” said Barney, struggling to recover his breath.

“So you’re conceding the victory,” said Gordon, grin widening. The little shit.

“Absolutely not, I got here first.”

“I passed you.”

“You nearly killed yourself is what you did!”

“I was in the lead when you decided to _cheat_ ,” signed Gordon, shifting his body, probably just trying to find a more comfortable position, but Barney couldn’t _not_ notice how he rubbed up against him, or just how little fabric there was between them. Neither of them were in uniform, they’d just been out drinking and Gordon was warm and flushed, and he could feel the flex of his wiry muscles. He took a shuddering breath.

“Stop that.”

“What?” Signed Gordon, still moving.

Barney rammed into him, pinning him motionless against the ladder. “Stop—stop moving.”

Finally Gordon seemed to be paying attention to him, at the worst moment. “Why?” he signed, slowly, staring right into his eyes. Challenging him, again, but he couldn’t resist him this time.

“Don’t—uh…” Don’t make me explain.

Gordon grabbed onto the sides of his shirt and pulled himself up, slowly, pressing their bodies together. Barney caught his breath.

“I—okay, don’t—I’m enjoying this a bit too much.”

“Too much?” signed Gordon, slowly, fingers brushing his chin.

“Gordon don’t do this to me. I can’t—”

Gordon leaned forward, closing the last bit of distance between them and kissed him. He didn’t respond at once, needing a moment to process that this was happening, then he leaned in, pressing Gordon’s head back against one of the rungs of the ladder. Gordon slipped an arm around his shoulders and leaned into him, weight distributed between the ladder and Barney’s body, and again he wondered how he could be so reckless, not even trying to hang onto the ladder. But he kept them steady, both hands wrapped around the sides of the ladder, until he slipped one free to adjust Gordon’s position, shifting him down a little to trap his hips against a rung, and Gordon, usually so silent, made a faint sound he’d never heard him make before. He had to remind himself to put his hand back on the ladder. This could kill both of them. It barely even registered. Falling was a faint possibility and Gordon was right there, kissing him, pressing into him. It didn’t seem real.

It was real, and he was finally pulled out of it when he moved a hand and momentarily lost his balance, just enough to remind him of where they were, and he pulled back.

“Gordon, seriously, you’re gonna kill me.”

Gordon blinked, then let go of him to hold onto the ladder, then let go again to sign “See you at the top?”

“Yeah. Yeah, you go ahead.”

Gordon kissed him on the cheek, turned around and climbed up the ladder. Barney, only now realizing how his arms were shaking, followed close behind him, tensed to grab for him if he lost his balance, but he reached the top without incident and Barney dragged himself up a moment later, rolling onto the floor to lay on his back. Something warm touched him and he looked up to Gordon hovering over him.

“Are you okay?”

He grinned. “I’m great. Uh, good to be back on solid ground.” He sat up and pulled Gordon into his lap. He had been about to say something else, but Gordon kissed him and they seamlessly picked up where they’d left off, and whatever it was couldn’t be more important than this.

The race was a draw, they finally decided. They’d just have to pick it up again later.

**Author's Note:**

> 'what if they fucked in the vents' yes excellent proposition! however might I suggest: what if they made out on the horrible death pit ladder   
> wow it is 1:30 i have to be at work at 6:30 goodnight


End file.
